


Soundproof

by zanni_1 (zanni_scaramouche)



Series: Heart. Alpha. Line. End [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Barebacking, Clothed Sex, Comeplay, M/M, Mafia AU, Mafia Boss Derek Hale, Stripper Stiles Stilinski, the godfather au, top pov
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-10
Updated: 2020-03-10
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:55:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23092201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zanni_scaramouche/pseuds/zanni_1
Summary: Derek and Spark's first time: Jungle c. 2013PART 2 - Reading Part 1 is highly advised for comprehension.
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Series: Heart. Alpha. Line. End [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1379014
Comments: 2
Kudos: 127





	Soundproof

**Author's Note:**

> My first smut! Aaaah! I wrote the first half of this a YEAR ago and the second half in a night of self-pressure (like peer-pressure but solo) to just get. it. done. Not quite what I had imagined it would be, but I'm happy enough to release it and move on! Also, is it just me, or do we rarely see top pov of things? Maybe I just read a lot of bottom things, or maybe it's because majority of writers are bottoms? Speculating here, but as I was writing I definitely had a 'I have so little inspo to draw on, why did I do this as my first???' crisis period. 
> 
> Might be a tad confusing because I didn't want to use Spark cause I think it's cheesy but we can't use his real name as we all know, so I pigeon holed myself there didn't I? Alas. 
> 
> Also don't forget that this will have been Stiles' first time since his attack, so it's his first proper time having consensual sex. It is also Derek's first time since Paige's death. So much baggage, jeez!
> 
> Derek 24, Stiles 19  
> (for those concerned, NO underage despite some themes that sway it that way.)

Derek has been to jungle several times during its opening year. He manages it for the first month, showing face and shaking hands to secure the appropriate clientele. The staff are hand picked. He assesses what’s on paper before he even glances at their features. Anything can be beautiful in the right slip of silk or light, sold with an appropriately alluring name. Body features are negligible. What he wants are people he can trust to conduct themselves correctly. It wouldn’t do to be shot in the back at his own venue. They may not be Pack, but he must create a loyalty with these people that will hold strong. 

He learns names, memorizes faces, greets them with eye contact. They’re paid to be dramatic and proud, so he lets them be. The benefits package is extensive, paid vacation abundant, working conditions meticulously monitored. It’s a handful and a half to keep in order, and it works. Every employee adores working there, and in turn, they adore him. It doesn’t come without nuisance. 

Every time he crosses the floor he ignores the eyes dragging over his frame. They want to be the one to catch his attention and hold it in place. Less than a week and someone gets brave enough to touch him, commendable, but rewarded in a way that ensures no one will make such a mistake again. It doesn’t keep them from teasing. Some days it’s cute, even close to amusing. Other days it pisses him off. Like today. 

Jackson took on full management duties two months ago. There have been no complaints from staff, clients, or neighbours. Derek should be happy. He should be proud. Instead he scowls his way down the stairs and strides through the quiet lounge, down a muted corridor and into the bar vibrating with sound. A bottle is always kept in the office, but Jackson’s replaced it with his own piss and Derek needs a proper drink, for fucks sake. 

There’s a glass poured seconds before he’s close enough to grab and sink it. Another quickly lands on the bartop. He swallows it as well. Roughly he pulls at the buttons of his black silk collar and pushes the hair from his forehead. It’s longer than he normally keeps it but what the hell, everything is changing, his hair may as well. He peers through the warped bottom of his glass, debating drinking more now or drinking in his office at the house. With a grimace at the mere thought of those four stuffy walls he looks up and all air in the room vanishes. 

Smooth milky skin luminescent in the dim lights and a flash of laughing brown eyes belonging to a ghost. Ice shoots through Derek’s veins at the memory of gasoline. The glass slips from his hand. Instinct rears him into action and his fingers find the slick crystal before it shatters. Shaking hands put it on the counter with a clatter, his eyes scanning the room. He finds a familiar slice of pale skin between a black mesh t-shirt and short boxer briefs clinging to a sweaty body rolling easily amongst the crush of people. The boy's face is turned, but Deek is certain the mischievous eyes belonged to him. 

Derek pushes his hair back, loose after a long day he doesn’t want to remember. With a snap of knuckles he presses his fist against the glossed bartop and, with a look at the boy slipping further into the crowd, fights the urge of his itching palm to take hold of the glass again and feel the way it would crack under his strength. He’s walking before he knows he’s made the choice to. He’s not drunk, but he could convince himself of it if he tried. Close enough to keep his mind pleasantly blank while he climbs the stairs and leans into Jackson’s office. 

“The new kid. Send him to two-oh-nine.”

Jackson barely lifts his head before Derek’s stalking down the hall. Every door here would open under his hands, two hundred nine no exception. Inside is the same liquid onyx floor as the rest of the building, interrupted only by a plush rug under a luxurious bed, framed by gilded chandeliers giving enough light to glow the silk sheets below. Derek stands at the foot of the bed and loosens the buttons of his cuffs, shoving the soft material up his forearms. He hasn’t touched anyone since- well, since. 

Near three years. In an effort to stop the ground from spinning he braces his hands on his hips and tips his head back, eyes closed. There’s heat twisting viciously in his stomach, a dark crooked thing, a crude rendition of the soft blooming love he felt for her. It’s possible the alcohol is affecting him more than he thought. 

The door opens. He hadn’t heard an approach or knock, his own doing. Soundproofing had been a necessary caution. Somewhere on his journey upstairs the boy has lost his shirt. Sweat collects on every inch of pale skin and his curls are a damp tangle on his forehead from a long night of work and an unknowable number of hands. 

His bare feet make a soft sound as he strides easily towards Derek, but his confidence falters before they touch. In the shadows of the room his eyes are dark pools. He holds Derek’s gaze for a moment he fights for, then they’re gone to the floor. Derek follows the flush of exertion down to the smooth bare chest and gets caught up in the trail of soft hair leading into a waistband.

“What a mess,” Derek murmurs to himself. 

Derek looks up in time to watch the boy blush deeper. It’s a curious thing. Derek sees his own hand reach for a cheek to feel the heat of it. His thumb pushes on the bottom lip until his mouth opens. He leaves it there. There’s no coy move to bite or lick, only the moist breath of shallow pants the boy is trying to control. Remarkable. 

The longer the moment stretches the more clearly he sees the facade of a memory drip away and the boy solidifies, his shoulders broad, his jaw defined. Up close the eyes are unmistakably different, the skin marked in too many places. Derek narrows his eyes to peer through the haze of alcohol and heat simmering in his veins. Up close he sees the boy is young. Younger than he should be here. The face is familiar in a vague way, and it must be from doing his assessment even if Derek finds it hard to believe. His eyebrows crease together and his teeth grind absently as he stares at the boy trying not to look back at him. 

“I’m sorry.” His voice is deeper than expected. 

Derek's moved his hand to the base of his neck, a light hold on a thrumming pulse, and strokes through the curling damp hair. Derek wasn’t saying it to criticize, given his own unsteadiness he's glad not to be alone in disarray. The skin is feverish under Derek's palm and it's setting off memories of the last time desire coursed through his veins, but this is absolutely nothing like the playful way he used to be. 

This is a pretty boy with chapped lips and dark eyelashes spiked with sweat and too much alcohol on an empty stomach. A soft cry from the boy brings Derek to realize his grip has tightened and he breathes heavily through his nose in an effort to relax it. If he's not careful, he'll ruin the boy. 

“What do you want?” 

“I…” the boy's throat clicks as he works to manage words. Derek watches a quick tongue swipe his lips and feels tension growing under his hand. 

A twist of bile sours Derek's stomach at the prospect of the boy being unwilling. 

“Do you want to stay or leave?”

“Stay.” The boy says before Derek’s finished, the pulse under his fingers singing. 

The coil in Derek’s stomach reignites at the sign of eagerness, the way the boy now meets his eyes without doubt.

“What do they call you?”

“Spark.” There’s no hesitation on the false name because this boy is young, but he’s not an idiot.

Derek’s lips quirk in amusement at himself and his own rules, “And what do you want, Spark?”

“Your hands,” he breathes, “I want your hands.”

Derek gives a feral grin. There are countless things he could do to this boy, but he's got a wicked idea of how best to fulfil such a request. 

“On the bed, face down.” 

The boy goes quickly, if not gracefully. His knees are spread, tilting his hips so they’ve come off the sheets in a tempting angle. His arms are pulled near his head, his shoulder blades standing out in relief and long fingers wound tight in the sheets. Derek’s eyes track the splatter of dots across smooth skin and the stretch of lean muscle. 

Within seconds he’s on top, knees caging in the boy's thighs. His takes hold of the boy's narrow waist in a steady grip, his focus narrowing to the dry friction between them as his hands move. His thumbs poke into dimples at the base of his spine, fingers curl around ribs and up until his palms swallow the shoulder blades. The boy is broader than most women, but he’s modest beneath Derek’s hands. 

Derek leans down until his forehead rests against the sticky skin of the kids back. He breathes in deep. It’s nothing like the smell of a bright eyed girl. It’s perfect. 

Derek takes his time. The briefs slide off easily, vanishing into the black room and leaving pale skin stretched and bared beneath him. He works up a sweat beneath his silk shirt while the pad of this thumb strokes against the boy's entrance until the kid squirms and makes bitten off noises at the tease. Slowly Derek sinks a finger in. He’s used a shit ton of lube, but the kid still tenses and catches his breath. 

Derek doesn’t remember moving from watching his finger sinking in and out of the kids ass, but soon he leaning down again and his forehead is pressed to the back of his neck. He hums the soft hush of the sea to calm him down. It works, until Derek starts on a third finger. The sounds coming from the kid are ground out curse words and high strung notes of pleasure that sing electricity into Derek’s veins. 

He sits up long enough to yank his belt and fly open, jostling backwards so he's kneeling behind tilted hips. He's mesmerized by the soft flesh of the boy's ass and the glowing pink from the way Derek's worked him with his hands. He leans with a tight hold on the slim waist, watching the head of his dick slide in the wet mess of the kids crack, reveling in the heat and glide. If he were sober he’d be embarrassed by the deep sounds he releases. The boy's gone tense again. 

Without wasting a moment Derek's using the hands on the kids waist to encourage him to flip over. He has to squeeze the base of his dick at the view as the kid settles on his back with little pants coming through shiny lips, cheeks saturated in a deep flush, pale thighs spread. It’s maddening. Derek crouches over him quickly, one hand bracing himself and the other gripping a pliant thigh as it wraps around him. The kids' eyes are glassed over. 

“Spark,” Derek murmurs in a deep voice and he can't resist tasting the boy's neck before he finishes speaking, “are you mine?” 

His lips trail up and down, softly biting and kissing the crook that Derek never wants to leave, his dick pressing into the soft skin of the boy's stomach. The legs around his waist tighten, but there’s no answer. Derek pulls back to look him in the eyes. They’re glazed over but aware enough to meet Derek’s. 

He waits until he’s sure the boy has focussed, “Are you mine, tonight?” 

A slip of pink tongue teases the boy's bottom lip slowly, and Derek nearly forgets he’s asked when the boy nods. 

“Yeah,” his voice is low, but it cuts off into a whine when he feels Derek realign their hips so they’re sliding against each other. 

“Can’t be mine if you’re not here.” 

Derek watches as it takes him a moment to work it out, his brow creased and lips parted as Derek keeps pushing against him, his dick just slick enough still to rut without being painful, foreskin tugging pleasantly on damp skin. Derek keeps his eyes glued on his face until he bites his lip and nods, slow at first, then enthusiastically. 

“Yeah, I’m here,” he breathes, “I’m yours.”

Derek indulges himself and bites at the soft flesh of his shoulder just to hear another gasp. He pulls back enough for his dick to drag down past the boy's balls until he’s where he needs to be, sensitive skin moving along the boy's perineum and coming achingly close to catching on his rim. Derek curses low, using one hand to slick himself again and press in. 

Derek loses his breath. Maybe it’s been a long time since the academy and the last man he was with, but Derek’s pretty sure the amount of time he spent finger fucking this kid shouldn’t have allowed him to still be this ridiculously tight. He’s weak in the knees and his balls are heavy and he’s so damn close to finishing at the first few glides of searing heat. Gradually he lets the rhythm build in his hips, feels sweat break out across every inch of his skin under the shirt and trousers he still wears. 

Their voices meld together in deep groans and cut off curses. Derek sits back a bit so he doesn’t have to brace himself and is repaid with more room to thrust, his fingers digging into lithe hips to hold the kid right where he needs to be. Brown eyes watch him, clear and sharp when they meet his.

Derek uses the better angle to speed up, and if he thought the boy was loud before it has nothing on the noises that start to spill from his lips between the sounds of their sweaty skin. He’s not close enough to taste anymore, but the view of his thrown back head and the expanse of his neck is worth it. When Derek gains enough sense to get a hand around his dick he loses it. 

“Fuck, holy fucking shit, yeah,” he says between a string of whining that leaves Derek’s senses on fire. “Please, fuck please don’t stop. Don’t stop, don’t-” 

Derek’s so close he bites his tongue, not willing to let up the pounding to return to biting the neck already blooming with marks when he can feel the kid tensing for all the right reasons, can see the crease in his brow and the wide set of his lips as ecstasy overtakes him. The tightening around his dick is near painful, one, two thrusts in and the sight of tears collecting in the boy's eyes are enough to send him over with a groan that vibrates low in his chest. 

They collect themselves slowly, and Derek would be embarrassed by his trembling and panting if the boy beneath him wasn't as much of a mess. Derek pulls out leisurely, watches hungrily where the kid's gone red and swollen around him and can't help the hand he puts in his place just to feel the heat of it. A moment later and his lips reconnect with the boy's neck and jaw and shoulder, taking time to thoroughly ruin it all. 

The boy makes small noises and flinches while Derek keeps his hand stroking into him where he's oversensitive. They kiss deep and slow until the arm holding himself from crushing the boy goes numb. He uses a hand to push the hair from his forehead and the other to push himself up. His clothes are soaked in sweat and they cling to him as he peels them off, brown lidded eyes watching each inch of skin as it’s revealed. Without grace Derek heavily rolls into the covers and makes room for the boy to move closer, but he hesitates with an eye on the door. 

“Take tomorrow off. Sleep here,” Derek murmurs. 

As expected the bed shifts as the boy rolls and makes himself comfortable on his tummy, hugging the pillow beneath his head. Derek is used to being listened to. Insidious thoughts worm their way into Derek's head as his heart rate slows. If he were a smart man he would have kept work and pleasure separate. Should have at least used a fucking condom. But sleep feels like a comforting promise and it's hard to regret the warmth of the body next to him when it acts like an anchor. 

Three years and he's done everything to keep the Pack running and the title of Alpha respected. Just for tonight he'll allow himself to indulge. The boy talks sleepily, but Derek can't follow long enough to make sense of it, his eyes already slipping closed. 

If Derek wakes from his nap and slides a hand down the tantalizing length of his spine, waiting for the boy to wake to whisper, “Are you mine?” 

If he watches for the sleepy nod that follows before he lets his hand complete its journey and sinks a finger into the pulsing wet heat, that's nobody's business but the boy next to him. If it leads to a second, and a third round, well. It's a good thing the walls are soundproof.

**Author's Note:**

> So? Was it all your hopes and dreams? What did you like, not like, etc?? 
> 
> Find the tumblr post and neat graphics below!  
> https://zanniscaramouche.tumblr.com/post/612196612818763776/part-2-of-series-soundproof-derek-and-sparks
> 
> I've never done this type of thing before and it was WILD(ly nerve wracking like holy shit don't judge meeee) <3
> 
> No one ever comments on smut but like, a Kudos would be kool ;)


End file.
